


Room 93

by 93_Suns



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Comedy, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23542594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/93_Suns/pseuds/93_Suns
Summary: In which the aftermath of a horrible break-up and a painful rejection warranted a hook-up and the participantsdon'tdo the one thing they’re supposed to.Touch each other.
Relationships: Kang Younghyun | Young K/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 19





	1. Prologue: Younghyun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- inspired after reading a line from Haruki Murakami's 'After Dark'  
> \- title inspired by Halsey's EP, 'Room 93'

Younghyun plays the video again. Over and over until his brain finally registers the sequence of images that pop on his screen every second. His phone isn’t the latest model and is probably stone-age compared to the new ones that have recently come out (his’ had been three years since its original release) but the display is clear and as vibrant as he had first bought it, he almost wishes it would glitch and crash and somehow delete the file instead so he can pretend it doesn’t exist and he can put away the memory of ever watching it to the back of his head, never to surface the forefront of his mind. Maybe then he could still feign clueless. Ask her again what happened. What did I do? What _didn’t_ I do? I can make it right. _Please let me make it right._ And hope for an answer that would give him even the slimmest of chances to possibly fix it. Fix _them._ Because begging her that way is so much easier than accepting what’s in front of him.

_‘I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s me.’_

He recalls. It’d been such a typical, cliché, out-of-a-movie kind of line. Younghyun would’ve laughed about it the entire day. But the irony of it all was not being able to, knowing how much it actually hurt to hear it for himself. 

Thoughts from that day begin crashing over him like a tidal wave of emotion, and he feels them all at once all over again—the shock over the phone, the confusion that compelled him to hit her speed dial multiple times only to connect to a dead line, and the hurt that followed him for days, haunting him. But this time there is a mix of denial and desperation as he presses play one more time, praying to god that everything is a lie. Because what if the video is edited? Forged? It’s so easy to do these days, students from the Arts Department can pull it off no problem. _Yes._ That has to be it. But he knows those wavy locks too well. Knows those lithe arms that wrap around somebody else’s neck. Knows the familiar way she curves her neck and the way her finger tangle into a mop of hair. The same way she would’ve done if it were _him._ The closer he watches, the deeper he’s cut on the inside. Younghyun knows he can’t deny it anymore. Every fiber of his being is screaming at him, _enough_. Stop _doing_ this to yourself. 

His hands are shaking as one holds the smartphone steady (he tries to) and the other hand is balled into a fist, nails digging into the flesh of his palms so hard it’s sure to leave marks— _wounds._ A single earbud is tucked firmly into his hear. He doesn’t need both to recognize her voice. 

And then Younghyun watches her kiss a pair of lips that didn’t belong to him.

The 40-second clip is over before he can turn away. 

The saying was right, Younghyun concludes. Love _does_ make one blind. He should’ve seen it coming. From the way her eyes had strayed away from him, to how spending time with her became times when he spent it alone. How she smiled at the thought of something— _someone_ —else, knowing he was right next to her. How she would sometimes speak so quietly like she had a secret. But every time he’d look at her all he could see was this girl whom he poured all his love into. Nothing else. And that was probably the problem. He loved her too much. To the point that he’s ignored the signs that would eventually drain him of love even for himself. 

A tired sigh escapes Younghyun as he pulls the earbud out and stares down at the crescent-shaped marks on his hand left by his nails. The anger and betrayal he knows he’s supposed to be feeling is static noise that later goes radio silent as he shuts down. Wearily, he rolls the wires of his earphones and shoves them into the pocket of his jeans along with his phone. He pulls himself up from the steps of the staircase he’d been sitting on with more effort than usual, his body suddenly tons heavier, and throws his backpack over his shoulder.

The halls are practically deserted when Younghyun walks them. It’s sunset and in most cases, Younghyun would’ve taken a moment to admire how a simple phenomenon such as the cycle of the day can make even the plainest and most ordinary-looking cream-colored walls seem so extraordinary, basked in the light of the late afternoon. He’s a keen observer and can easily pick out the beauty in anything if he wants to. But there’s nothing beautiful about today. And he stops in his tracks, not to look out the glass panels and up at the natural gradient in the sky, but he stands in the middle of the corridor unmoving, his head hanging low, tears exhausted. 


	2. Prologue: Seonha

Seonha tries not to let it bother her. Really.

She’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror, hands pressed down against the cold, hard sink as she leans forward, staring right into her dark brown eyes as if she’s searching for something in them. An answer maybe. She takes a step back—two, three—enough so she can examine herself in the reflection, and makes a mental checklist. Ponytail is still in place. Blouse and skirt still perfectly pressed and crisp, with just a few wrinkles here and there to indicate her activity throughout the day (it wasn’t a lot, but still more than the usual being engaged in books or revising her notes in some corner of the campus); the heels beneath the soles of her shoes are still present (which she regrets ever wearing—god, she’s surprised she hasn’t broken an ankle yet). Her lips are still in that shade of peach amidst the course of two meals, a hot cup of coffee, and three snacking breaks (she loves her sugar).

Yes. Everything is right where it should be. She hasn’t lost anything. Which is why she shouldn’t let herself feel bothered. 

But it _does_ bother her. And it gnaws at her from the smallest blood cell inside her body to the pigments of her skin outside. Because it sure as hell feels like she just lost the most important thing she could’ve ever had. 

_Seonha breathes._

“You’re a nice girl, Seonha-ya,” he began. 

It’d been a routine. When they’d wait for each other in the courtyard after their respective classes were over. They didn’t have the same schedule, but like a pact that had been set in stone from the time they found themselves studying in the same high school, and eventually, university, they walked home together. It’d always been that way. Living in the same apartment complex and knowing each other since practically forever, it was only logical. There’d only been a few select occasions in which they’d made an exception to the unspoken rule, most of which happened in high school. One was when Seonha had extra-curricular that didn’t finish until late, and another was when his older ex-girlfriend insisted on picking him up in her fancy sports car to spend the night out (he couldn’t—wouldn’t—say no, obviously). 

Keyword: _ex._

Does no longer apply now. 

He was in his final year then and _she_ was probably a hella rich college student/graduate who worked part-time as a model or something. The details didn’t matter, Seonha decided. 

If it weren’t for those instances, they would’ve definitely maintained a clean record. 

But it seemed that from today onwards, there wasn’t even going to be any kind of record anymore. Seonha had known it from the moment the words left his lips and the apologetic tone he’d used that things weren’t going to be the same. 

“You’re smart, you have a good head on your shoulders,” he continued, as if sugarcoating his intentions was going to reduce the damage he was about to inflict on her. “But—“

“But why,” Seonha interrupted curtly, not quite expecting to sound so harsh. He sighed in defeat. He knew better than anyone else that Seonha was the straight-to-the-point type. The one who didn’t like to beat around the bush or talk bullshit. Yet still, he had this sense of obligation to be gentle with her. 

“We’ve known each other since we were kids,” he explained as if Seonha wasn’t aware of the fact. Frankly, it only made _sense_ for them to be together. And Seonha thought that now would be the perfect time while they still had the chance before he graduated and moved out and worked in some other neighborhood or city even. Seonha had been patient with her feelings, keeping it locked away for a good few years, swallowing every bitter pill of seeing him with girlfriends (while only having so much as potential boyfriends for herself) until she felt like she’d finally caught up with him. Until she felt like she was his _equal._

A sophomore and she’d already established herself in a humble yet prominent way. She’d been consistent with her grades. She was recognized by her professors and respected by her peers. She was poised and kept proper decorum. So _why._ “You should know by now that I can only support you as your senior. As an older brother.”

And it finally clicked. “It’s because I’m younger than you, isn’t it?” Seonha couldn’t help but retaliate as if she’d been burned. “It’s the age difference. Even though I did my best to keep up with you…”

“And I’m proud of you,” he didn’t answer her question. “You’ve worked so hard—“

“It’s not my academics or grades,” Seonha cut off again, saying it more to herself as if drawing to a conclusion. She wasn’t even listening to him anymore. “You think I’m not mature enough. Mature like her _._ Like the _rest of them,_ ” she stressed the last words and could see the guilt in his eyes. His silence meant everything Seonha had suspected. There was no more use in dragging it out, so with what dignity Seonha had left, she said, “it’s okay _sunbaenim_ ”—she noticed him visibly flinch. She’s always called him _‘oppa’_ —“even I’m mature enough to understand that. Thanks for your time.”

“Seonha-ya,”

Without looking at him, she’d given a tiny bow and excused herself, telling him that he can go without her today. And probably the day after that _._ And the day after that.

Turning back, she walked away.

 _Seonha releases a breath_ , the events of what happened just moments ago replaying itself in her mind’s eye like a film reel, except it’s jumped to all the bad parts and the worst possible ending. Then a laugh escapes her, still looking back at her reflection that has now mirrored the bitter smile painted on her face. She doesn’t shed a single tear, but the crushing realization is undeniable. 

Of course she didn’t lose anything. She can’t lose something she never had. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the result of one of the au prompts I’ve written on twitter. Not gonna like, I think it’s ambitious of me to actually go through with this because one, it’s a multichap and two, I’m bad at multichaps (I’m dying already as I crank out drafts for the coming chapters). But also this is something I’d like to work on and see how the characters progress in this story, so we’ll see how it goes!
> 
> Just a quick note regarding the vagueness of certain characters in the prologues (the ex, the _sunbaenim_ ) incase anyone’s confused/curious. I didn’t name them (or introduce them properly for that matter) because rather than establishing them as an individual character, I wanted them to be sort of like a catalyst. Something that triggers/draws out the emotion from the main leads for them to do what they have to do (think of those faceless characters in anime that somehow make a significant impact in the protagonist’s life). The prologue just basically explains that. The real action starts in the following chapters ( _lololol_ ). Maybe they’ll remain nameless, maybe not. Who knows!
> 
> And I promise the rest of the story isn’t as dramatic and angsty as the prologues.
> 
> I’ve talked too much. Thanks for reading thus far ( ´ ▽ ` ) ✧


	3. Younghyun

Younghyun didn’t actually think Jae was going to take his suggestion—or rather, musings, seriously. He really hadn’t been in the right mind when he said it and the regret was already coming to bite him in the ass now that he was looking back at it. “I think I need someone,” he’d said. Mostly to himself. Like a thought he’d been pondering over for a considerable amount of time before his brain finally came up with the _eureka_ moment that would potentially be the solution to the emotional turmoil he’d been bottling up inside.

He’d been walking with Jae to their second class of the morning then (a class they shared together in spite of Jae being one year ahead of him because apparently Korean lit. was a common ground between Pol-Sci and Biz-Ad students). Jae heard him and turned to him, eyebrows scrunched behind the frames of his oversized glasses. “Need someone?” he reiterated, waiting for an elaboration.

“Just one night with somebody.”

“Whoa, whoa, hold up,” and they literally did with Jae being the instigator, cutting right in front of Younghyun by a step, pretty much needing the momentary pause to fully absorb what his friend was trying to imply. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting? Like…like a _one-night stand_?” Jae stressed the question in his tone to make sure his assumption hadn’t been totally out of this world while still being able to take it back in case his assumption _was_ wrong and Younghyun decided to disown him as a friend for even thinking the idea would cross his mind.

Younghyun nodded. “Yeah.”

“Daaaanngggg, bruh.”

Truth be told, the whole idea of it was _definitely_ out of this world but Younghyun’s head must’ve been up in space or something. Jae’s reaction only proved how outrageous it had been especially since not a lot of things fazed him—he was both in disbelief (are you serious?) and excited (do it). And it was when Jae had ever-so casually (not) mentioned that he knew a friend of a friend who was in the same sort of situation did the series of Younghyun’s poorly-made decisions started taking place.

Exhibit A. Walking through the corridors of the old boy’s dormitory on the east side of campus—the one that was rumored to be haunted on certain floors because of its less than amazing renovation job—in search of a particular room. If he could find it without chickening out first. They weren’t kidding about how bad the building’s state had been in. On the floors that hadn’t been blessed by the glory of a fresh coat of paint or a nice glossy layer of varnish, or smooth vinyl tiles, people would think it used to be a ward for psychiatric patients. You know, the kind you see in horror movies.

Okay, maybe Younghyun was exaggerating. But it sure as hell felt like it especially in the evening where the hallway lights were so dim, Younghyun wouldn’t be surprised if one (or all) of the bulbs went out (he prayed to god they wouldn’t). It’d been a wonder how there was still occupancy.

He should’ve insisted on choosing where to meet up. Not that he knew a lot of places to begin with (other than his house but that was an obvious NO), but if the other party’s choice of one-night stand spots was in relation to their tastes in life then this was probably a sign for Younghyun to abort mission while he still could.

It’s just that Younghyun didn’t think the arrangement was going to happen so fast so soon. He was expecting at least a twenty-four hour window for preparation, but boom, the day hadn’t even finished yet and Jae was already confirming the details. It seemed that the other party didn’t want to waste time. Not that Younghyun was against it. He wanted to get it over with, too—

Wait _._

It _was_ consensual, right?

Younghyun stopped walking, his palms suddenly sweaty. _Of course it was consensual._ Jae (the ever-most reliable bridge of communication) wouldn’t have given him the thumbs-up from the other party if it weren’t. Younghyun nodded his head in assurance and continued. But not without the nagging thought of at least getting their number.

Which brings us to exhibit B of Younghyun’s series of poorly-made decisions. He should’ve gotten their number— _her_ number. He didn’t even know her name! Consent wasn’t the issue anymore. He had no idea what kind of person Jae’s friend’s friend was. What if she was crazy? A psychopath? What if this was all a set-up? And not _this_ kind of but like one of those tinder meet-ups gone wrong and somebody ended up dead? What if he dies?

_Get a grip, Kang Younghyun!_ He smacked the sides of his face with his clammy hands and shooed the thought away. He really should have a little more faith in the people Jae mingled with. After all, he was one of them. Younghyun wasn’t perfect but he was a decent enough human being—the one who didn’t cheat in relationships, that’s for sure.

Younghyun climbed another flight of stairs which had thankfully been the last one. He was panting when he reached the ninth floor, taking a breather by the rails as he leaned against them, the muscles in his legs sore and heavy. He briefly considered getting back into basketball the way he did when he was in high school. His exhaustion was embarrassing, he wasn’t even sure if he had stamina anymore—which was even _more_ embarrassing. Maybe he could cancel, reschedule it for another day? Oh, wait. He didn’t have her _freaking_ number. Or maybe he could just not show up altogether.

No, that was an asshole thing to do and Younghyun was _not_ an asshole.

Younghyun went forward, counting backwards as he walked passed rooms—“ninety five…ninety four…”— realizing that the smallest number was at the end of the hall opposite the staircase he had taken, which he wasn’t going to complain about. At least it bought him time to compose himself because he was a nervous mess. Younghyun was not prepared for this. Among all other things (he had a packet but that was it), he wasn’t mentally and/or (both) emotionally prepared. It was all brand new to him. Hell, he hadn’t even looked at any other girl (that he wasn’t related to) in the eye other than his girlfriend. Well. Ex-girlfriend. How was he supposed to get it on with a stranger?

But then _ex-girlfriend,_ _get it on_ , and _stranger_ in the same thought bubble reminded Younghyun why he was doing this in the first place. To get back at her. It was screwed up even for him, but he was hoping that perhaps one day she’d catch wind of the news and regret everything she’d ever done to him while he quietly moved on for good.

Finally, he’d reached the door of his destination. “Ninety three.” Younghyun stared up at the cheap plastic number plate hanging by a hook in the center of the door and swallowed the lump of anxiety that made its way up his throat. “Here goes.”

Younghyun must’ve ignored the possibility of the other party arriving first because he was surprised to see somebody already there, sitting in the middle of the bed with their legs tucked under them as they read a book. Jae mentioned she was punctual but Younghyun checked the time and it was only 6:47 PM. Thirteen more minutes before 7:00. _She’s the ‘on time is late’ type of person, isn’t she?_ Suddenly, she looked at him, their eyes meeting in an instant, making his buzzing thoughts come to a halt.

Startled, Younghyun croaked out, “S-sorry…I didn’t mean to be so silent.” And Younghyun wanted to smack himself. So much for a first impression. It wasn’t usually a big deal for him but there were only so much vibes you can give off for being a bundle of nerves and not saying anything. He didn’t want to come across as a creeper especially in a setting like this. “And sorry I didn’t knock. I didn’t think you’d arrived so early,” he apologized again. “Can I come in?”

The stranger on the bed seemed indifferent. “Okay.”

Younghyun entered carefully and closed the door behind him.

“So… You’re him right?” she began, making Younghyun jump at the sound of her voice (wow he needed to cut back on the coffee). The question was prompt and it took him some two seconds before registering what she’d meant.

“If by ‘him’ meaning the person Jae…well, the person your friend’s friend recommended to you, then yes. Hi hello, how’s it going?” Younghyun gave a little greeting wave which she didn’t return. He smiled awkwardly. “Right…” Her eyes were on him though, this unreadable expression on her face that made Younghyun conscious of himself as if she were studying him like some sort of specimen. Like a frog on a dissecting tray waiting to be cut open and exposed. That was what her stare felt like. Cold and curious and opening him up and picking on his insides.

“You’re not…a male hooker, right?” she asked, slanting her eyes at him suspiciously.

“What? No!” Younghyun retaliated quickly. “No. I am NOT a male hooker.”

“Just checking.”

“Why would any of your friends or our friends know a hooker?” Younghyun threw back at her, not expecting a reply.

She shrugged. “We’re strangers to each other who were hooked up by them who happen to know about our situation. I’m sure they know a bunch of other things.” Younghyun fell silent. “I know Taeju knows a lot of things only your friend knows about,” she added. She made a valid point. He and Jae were best friends but Younghyun was sure there were some things they didn’t talk about just because it never came up and probably only ever came up when he talked to his other close friends. Like Taeju, whoever Taeju was.

“So you’re saying they know a hooker?” Now Younghyun was asking for fun. He was kind of intrigued at how she’d been responding to him, he couldn’t help it.

“Possibly.” She closed her book and placed it by her side. “Since we’re both here, should we get it over with?” The girl didn’t beat around the bush, did she? And just when Younghyun thought the mood was lightening up. It was like she was there for business. Younghyun didn’t know whether to be relieved or intimidated at her frankness. On one hand, it wasn’t going to feel like he was pressuring her into anything. On the other, _he_ felt the pressure to act and act fast.

“Sure.”

Younghyun made his way further inside, which wasn’t a lot considering how small the room had been. It was obvious that it’d been made for a single occupant. The one-person bed she was sitting on was against the wall and on the opposite wall was a wooden desk and a chair. Next to the desk was a narrow door which Younghyun supposed was the bathroom. Other than that, no other furnishings adorned the tiny space. No cabinets, no shelves. When Younghyun look around, he could tell that the room hadn’t been occupied in a while. Flecks of dust floated in the air under the light of the sunset gleaming from the grimed-filled windows. The only other source of light apart from the desk lamp, which made him wonder how she could’ve possibly read under such conditions.

Younghyun shuffled over to where she was and motioned to the free space on the bed, asking if it was alright to sit down. She nodded once as if it say, go ahead, and Younghyun made himself comfortable on the edge, keeping an appropriate distance away from her. The bed was small as it is though, and they’d already taken up so much space. If they moved around, one of them was bound to either bang their head against the wall or fall off.

But Younghyun wasn’t going to think about that.

Slipping off his shoes, Younghyun turned to fully face her. In what minimal light they had, he was able to make out her features. Sharp. Along with her seemingly perpetual straight face, she looked unapproachable. But they were also very feminine that if you got a smile out of her, she’d probably look as gentle and as delicate as a flower. Her long hair was cleanly slicked back and tied into a tight ponytail, and the way she sat up straight, sitting on her calves, knees together, skirt tucked under her thighs, felt as though she’d participated in tea ceremonies at least a few times in her life (how Younghyun knew what went on in tea ceremonies pretty much involved one of the many random conversations he had with Jae). He wouldn’t be surprised if she did though. Younghyun couldn’t help the sudden curiosity that struck him. What made such—how should he put it? Straight-laced? Refined?—girl want to do something like this _._

“So…” he began. “Should I move closer?” Her response was a blunt _‘_ okay’ and Younghyun inched closer, his knee lightly brushing hers’. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

They sat in silence for what felt like several minutes, unmoving as their eyes darted anywhere and everywhere but on each other.

A shift on the bed sent Younghyun to a jolt as he saw her remove her first piece of clothing (a cardigan). _Already?_ He thought in slight panic (though he should’ve expected it). Without having a clue of what to do next, he mirrored her and took off his denim jacket, folding it and placing it behind him. 

“Now what…” she asked when neither of them did anything else.

“I don’t know. I haven’t really done this before,” Younghyun replied honestly.

“Me too,” she replied, her own honesty surprising him.

“I could…” he trailed off shyly. “If it’s okay with you…I could kiss you first.”

“Okay.”

She didn’t say anything else and simply shut her eyes. Younghyun took this as a sign to continue and leaned in slowly, careful not to make sudden movements and making sure he was going at a steady pace. “You good?” he asked, verbalizing so she could sense how near he was coming.

“…yeah,” she replied as bluntly as ever, but softer this time. Her breath hitched in her throat which Younghyun didn’t miss. He also didn’t miss how stiff she was as she gripped the hem of her skirt so tightly it turned her knuckles white and how her eyelids quivered with each moment that passed. She probably didn’t want him to notice, but Younghyun could tell that she was feeling just as uneasy as he was.

The tips of their noses were barely touching when Younghyun paused. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, using what’s left of his better decision-making skills before he— _they_ went all the way. And for the first time since he’d spoken to her, he was finally seeing a hint of hesitation. Younghyun pulled back just as she did and opened her eyes.

“I don’t think I can,” she admitted quietly.

Younghyun thought so. “I don’t think I can either,” he said.

“Can I ask you something?” she said suddenly, glancing at him with a tiny fleck of hopeful in her eyes, probably the closest thing to soft Younghyun had seen on her after all this time. These little details strangely found its way to Younghyun’s psyche, intriguing him further than he already was. “Am I unattractive?”

The question threw him off-guard. It was the kind of question anyone would be surprised to hear, especially coming from an obviously _not_ unattractive person (but Younghyun was in no position to criticize her for asking). Objectively speaking, she was at least above average. Even a stranger couldn’t be blind to that. Personally, Younghyun thought that there was not a figment of unattractive on her. On the contrary, she was plenty attractive. Albeit intimidating with a gaze that could slice you up in cold cuts and serve you on a dinner plate with a blank face. But as they teetered on the verge of vulnerable, he was convinced that all of that had been a façade.

“What makes you say that?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head. “Forget it, it’s a weird question.”

“If it counts though, you’re not,” Younghyun said anyway.

She seemed taken aback as if she didn’t expect the reply and let a silent moment pass before saying, “Thanks. You’re not so bad either.”

Younghyun (not-so) subtly averted his gaze, the ceiling suddenly becoming the most interesting thing in the room. “Thanks.”

“So,” she announced, grabbing back Younghyun’s attention and effectively dispelling the awkward air that lingered between them. “Can we both agree and pretend that we did it and get back to living our lives?”

To Younghyun, it didn’t sound like a bad idea at all. “Works for me.”

“And…” There was a hint of uncertainty in her tone as though contemplating on whether or not to say what she wanted to. Younghyun waited patiently as she gathered her thoughts, setting his denim jacket down just as he was about to wear it. “Thank you. For trying. For agreeing,” she said sincerely. Yet another moment of intrigue for Younghyun. 

“I should be the one thanking you,” Younghyun said. “I didn’t even think you’d consider.”

“That makes the two of us. But we all have our own reasons why we do the things we do, don’t we?” What she said couldn’t be further from the truth. Younghyun didn’t even need to answer that.

“Why do I get the feeling that there’s more to you than meets the eye?” he raised a curious eyebrow at her.

“It all depends on which eye you’re looking with.” It wasn’t as funny of a joke as it should’ve been, but Younghyun found himself laughing anyway. Which in turn made her chuckle. Younghyun was wrong about one thing. When you got a smile out of her, she wasn’t gentle and delicate. She was blooming and full of life. Younghyun thought he liked that better.

“It’s not _that_ funny.”

“Coming from someone as deadpan as you? I think it is,” Younghyun said, finally coming down from the high of the laughter.

She rolled her eyes in a childish way but didn’t stop a tiny (very tiny—microscopic almost) smile from breaking out. “Hey, when we step out of here, we’re going to report that we both had the best sex of our lives, okay?”

“Deal. Who screamed first?”

“You did, obviously,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“But you followed shortly after. Like one second after.”

“Fine.” She stretched out at an arm towards Younghyun, palm open. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Younghyun took her slim hand in his. “Likewise.”

As he bid her goodbye, a part of Younghyun was wistful he wasn’t going to see her anymore. He had this strong feeling that they’d at least be good acquaintances if they saw each other again.


End file.
